Dark. Lonely. Altitude… And a killer up-hill at mile 11. Those were my initial impressions of the inaugural East Canyon Marathon in Morgan, UT. The race director was a it flustered at packet pickup, apologizing for the late start (he was all of three minutes past the time he said he’d have packets ready). This morning, in the pre-dawn darkness 26.2 miles away from the Morgan High School finish line, I thanked him for his efforts. He said he appreciated that as he’s been freaking out about the event and wanting it to go well. I told him, as I did the day before at the pickup, it was all good.
The bus ride out to this spot was driven by a former corporate exec who took up bus driving and adjunct professorship in business admin in his retirement. He was also an expert kid joke comedian… He even did my favorite joke: “What do you get when you cross and elephant with a rhino?” In my cold medicated haze and stuffy head, I mumbled the punchline as best I could, “Ele-fino!”
With the start, I was tied for first with a guy who would go on to win the whole thing. He pulled away from me fairly early and I ran mostly alone for the opening 10 miles. Another guy passed me then, putting me in third… A position I kept until mile 23 when the proverbial wheels came off.
Until I caught up to the half marathon sweeper and started passing the half’ers who had started after us, it was essentially just me and the road, with a two-person aid station every two miles providing much needed human contact. The vistas were nice and it wasn’t too hot. Had I been feeling better and had there not been that killer hill at mile 11, I might even have hit a Boston qualifier time. The race director had gone to the trouble to get the course certified, a time consuming and costly process; I think it’s an $1800 fee to get certified as a Boston Qualifier. Never let it be said the Boston Athletic Association is anything BUT a good capitalistic group.
My two main criticisms of the course stem from signage and design. Somewhere around the mile 12 mark there was a fork in the road, one path toward East Canyon Park and one that climbed a minor hill. It wasn’t marked but I went with the hill figuring we probably weren’t going INTO the park. Worst case scenario, I figured if I got to mile 13 and there wasn’t an aid station I’d double back … But it was a bit of a nerve wracking mile. Turned out I chose wisely.
The second issue was a weird out and back right at the end of the course — final 1/2 mile or so that had us loop back along the high school playing fields. It being an opening weekend of school activities, there was a hue hustle and bustle of kids, parents, and high school fans crowding out the race organization and apparently trying to bully the kids who were volunteering as course marshals, it was confusing and I’m sure it was an inaugural necessary evil that will be looked at and modified next year.
Other than that, it was a perfectly pleasant way to spend the morning, even if at times I couldn’t breathe and felt the sinus pressure in my noggin ebb and flow with the rolling hills of altitude. I wound up with a 3:21 or so. I thought I was fourth as a strong runner passed me around mile 23 and I just had nothing left to try and give chase. But the unofficial results listed me as sixth… Whatever the case, I didn’t think I needed to stick around for the awards as I preferred grabbing a shower before checking out of my motel and heading to the airport. It was the right decision for me, for my fellow passengers on my flight, and for the world.
I’m sitting at the SLC airport now hoping the marginally rescheduled flight to SFO remains on time and hopefully gets into SFO early. I just google mapped the directions to the Santa Rosa Marathon packet pickup and there are a number of traffic incidents on the road at the moment meaning at best I’d get there around 6:15; packet pickup ends at 6. I’ve texted the race organizer trying to get an exception to their “No Race Day Pickup” policy. Otherwise, I’ll bandit it tomorrow, running without a bib, like a running version of Burt Reynolds.
I know I’ll never pull off a 1977-era Burt… So fingers crossed it doesn’t come to that.